


Drink With Me

by Sorin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Grief, M/M, Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: The end result of a night of drinking is worth the inevitable hangover that will follow. (Contains spoilers for 5.0!)





	1. At First Pour

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone else think it was a little weird that the conversation about the Light happened with him standing in the hallway? No? Just me?
> 
> :D;
> 
> This story contains sex between two male characters, so if that's not your cup of tea, there's not a single thing in this story you'll probably enjoy much. Assuming it is, however, I hope you like it!

You have to admit, you’d always been a _little_ suspicious. … or rather, a _lot_ suspicious. It takes a lot of gumption for someone to utterly deny his own identity when asked after it, or rather to say _well, we didn’t find anyone by that name in the Tower_\- which is exactly like him, you think wryly. By the time you’ve returned from Ahm Aerang you are in bad shape and your patience is more or less shot, but you soldier on- what else _can_ you do? It won’t be much longer until the last Lightwarden is gone, and hopefully he, they, _all _of them will have found a cure for your _affliction._

Which, you think sourly, can be classified as _finally bit off more than he could chew,_ perhaps.

After your talk with Ardbert, you’re in the process of shrugging out of your jacket and unbuttoning the shirt you wear beneath when the knock at the door startles you out of your thoughts. You answer it after a few seconds and startle the Crystal Exarch, who had been perhaps nervously waiting for you to answer- which seems odd… and odder still that he would come calling, especially at this hour. Still, you’re content to allow him his eccentricities- just as Rammbroes asked of you so long ago- and you invite him in so as not to have this conversation in the hallway.

He hovers near the door as though he can’t potentially escape fast enough, and you tell him about what’s happened to you. He looks a mixture of shocked and dismayed, and sounds it as well- and after promising to find a solution, he asks a favor of you. You tilt your head, flicking one ear in curiosity… and when he asks you to survive this, your heart warms- right up until he continues and says _for the wars yet un-won._ Here you shoot him a withering glare that warns him to go no further, and to his credit he stammers and falls silent, then exhales and clasps his hands, nervously wringing them again. You’re tired of being directed from one war to the next, _mortally_ tired of it.

“Forgive me my rambling,” he says, his voice subdued. If, you thought, he would put his hood down, you’d see his ears pinned flat to his head. “I meant no offense, only that you… you are the light of hope for so many, and…”

You blink, then slump a little and shake your head, ears drooping. “No, I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m exhausted and not thinking clearly.” You don’t want him to leave, you _don’t-_ especially not like this. He’s nervous enough around you as it is when you’re alone, though you’re sure you know _why,_ baffled as you continue to be. “Ah- since you’ve come all this way, would you like to share a drink?”

He looks utterly shocked. “A drink?” he repeats, as though he’s not quite sure he heard you right. “I could stay,” he finally says slowly, carefully. “… but if you’re weary- I don’t want to keep you from your bed.”

“You won’t,” you promise, and your ears perk up as you brighten. You aren’t too tired for this, to talk to him one on one for perhaps longer than you’ve been able to thus far- not when it’s been _so_ long. You walk to the table and pour two glasses of mead, then offer him one with a quick smile. “This really is good,” you say, tipping your own glass to your lips and taking a sip. “Mm… tastes like rolanberries, I think.”

He cautiously takes a sip as well, then tilts his head. “Ah, so it does,” he muses. He lifts the bottle and peers at it, then sniffs at his glass. “It’s been so long since I’ve had them that I fear they’d escaped my memory.”

You smile at him and lean against the table, sitting lightly against the edge and winding your tail around your legs to keep it from getting squished. “They’re one of my favorite desserts,” you admit, and _ah_, he looks interested now- his smile is curious, genuine. You flick your ears and smile sheepishly. “I could eat them by the cartload.”

“Truly,” he says, amused. “Well, that’s understandable- I, myself, was always fond of La Noscean oranges.”

You remember that, you think, and you take a drink to hide your thoughts. He would always peel them carefully and far from the vicinity of his books, and would keep them on a plate that he almost had to lean to reach so he wouldn’t have to worry about dripping orange juice onto the pages. The wedges were small enough to pop into one’s mouth without having to bite, so it seemed the perfect snack. You remember him grinning at you and putting one to your lips. “I like them, too,” you say once you’ve swallowed and composed yourself. “It’s been even longer since I’ve had one of those.” Since the Tower doors had swung shut and taken him from you, since you’d been unable to so much as look at one without tearing up.

He smiles and takes another sip, nodding, and leans against the table next to you. “It is sometimes strange for me to think on my homeland,” he admits. “I’ve lived here over a century- in truth, the Crystarium is my home. … but, when I first pulled Thancred here, I found myself thinking more and more on my childhood- and by the time you arrived, I’d started to wonder what became of everyone I knew.”

How you want to tell him, you think, but you don’t want to ruin this for him- or for yourself. “I could find out for you,” you offer instead, looking toward him with a smile… though from this angle, all you can see is his damnable hood. “It wouldn’t be a burden.”

He looks at you in surprise, lips parting a little bit, and then he lets out a soft breath and smiles. “That’s very kind of you,” he says. “Perhaps once this is finished with, then. It is a little strange knowing that they are not yet gone, old as I am.”

You grin a little over the rim of your glass. “Ah, yes,” you muse, “the old man who kept pace with me through Holminster Switch and fought tirelessly at my side. Truly, you are approaching decrepit.”

This makes him laugh, and it rings out like music to your ears. “Yes, well,” he says, grinning at you in return, “I’ll admit to being hale so long as I’m within proximity to the Tower. Otherwise, I fear you’d find me falling asleep in the nearest sunbeam.” He takes another drink and smiles, turning his face to the open window and looking out at the stars. “How the Crystarium glows beneath the night sky,” he murmurs. “I could not be more proud.”

You soften, and look out at the stars as well. You’ve fallen in love with him all over again as you’ve watched him with his people- how far he’s come from the mischievous historian he was when you first met him. He is not the same as he was then, but he doesn’t need to be, not for you… who he is now is more than enough, though you have to admit you’re getting a little frustrated with his continued ruse. “I like it here,” you say quietly, honestly. “The Crystarium is so peaceful, even in the midst of all the danger- but, that’s because the people know they have you to protect them.” You look at him and smile warmly.

He looks back, surprised, then colors again and takes a drink of his mead, nearly draining the glass. “Well,” he says, “I have… done my best for them, always. Their forebears fled to the Tower when first it appeared, and though poorly fit to do so, I rallied them as best I could.” He smiles when you refill his glass. “Thank you,” he says, lifting it slightly in acknowledgment. “I’ve had to learn as I’ve gone, and thankfully they’ve put up with me as I’ve done so.”

You chuckle, finishing off your glass and refilling it as well before setting the bottle down behind you. “As learning goes, I think you’ve managed admirably,” you say- you’ve seen the opposite too many times. G’raha, the Exarch, however he wants to style himself… his love for his people is fervent and undeniable. This truly _is_ his home, as far removed from the Source as he now is- and it is because he made it into one for himself and everyone else.

As the time goes on, one drink turns into two, then three, then four, until there are two empty bottles of mead on the table and a third well on its way. Your tolerance for alcohol is fairly high, but you don’t remember his being quite as good- in fact, you remember him drunk and stumbling back from Revenant’s Toll with his arm slung around you, singing bawdy songs in the language of his birth- _thankfully_\- at the top of his lungs. That image never fails to make you smile, but this man instead seems all the quieter, seems content to retreat further into his hood and gaze with a gentle sort of fuzziness about him into the night sky beyond the room. When you push away from the table you stumble, having forgotten about your tail wound around your legs, and you reel sideways. He moves to brace you, but you are too off-balance, and you wind up nearly bending him back over the table with your hands on either side of him. His hood, _somehow,_ stays in place- though he looks very surprised.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumble, pushing back and shaking your head a little. “’s been awhile since I’ve… y’know…” You gesture at the bottles, then giggle- _giggle._ You, the Warrior of Light, of Darkness, are _drunk._

In all fairness, however, he is as well- and he laughs, lifting a hand to gently pat your arm. “It’s nice,” he admits. “It’s fun… but I’m afraid we’ll regret it when the sun rises.” He looks up at you and grins- he clearly doesn’t care about the inevitable hangover in store for you both.

You are entirely unashamed as you study his lips, enjoy the way they curve in complete joy. As much as you aren’t treated as a normal person, neither is he, and this has been a welcome respite for you… you can only imagine how it feels for him. You reach up and tap him on the nose, which makes him wrinkle it in surprise- and with caution thus thrown to the wind, you decide it would be an _excellent_ idea to kiss him.

So you do.

To say he is surprised is an understatement, but with alcohol’s warm blanket smothering you both, he is perhaps less inclined to shove you away and run as though his robe is on fire. He gasps softly, then mumbles something you don’t quite catch, even with the Echo aiding you- and then his mouth is hot against yours, lips parted and tasting of the sweet mead the two of you have had far too much of. You are _all_ too glad to kiss him back, and you put your hands on his waist and pull him closer as he cups your face with his left hand and winds his right arm around you. He slides his hand up your jaw and into your hair, tangles his fingers in it gently, before running them over your ear and gently pressing it down so he can stroke along the top of it. That sends tingles through your whole body, and your tail swishes a little faster behind you as you deepen the kiss further. It’s a bit clumsy on both of your parts, seeing as how neither of you are thinking clearly- _obviously_\- but that’s fine, he’s warm and solid against you and you’ve been too long without him.

He drags his nails against the base of your ear as he slides his right hand down to gently grip your tail, giving it a careful tug and making a soft sound filter into his mouth as you shiver. He likes that, clearly, and so he does it again, firmer this time, and you catch his lower lip between your teeth and hold it for a second before letting go, trailing your lips to his cheek and tracing the path of the crystal that cuts through it. It’s his turn to make a quiet sound, and he tips his head back as you kiss along his jaw, down lower to what you can reach of his neck and the border of skin and crystal. It’s perhaps a little frightening, you don’t want to lose him to _anything,_ but for now it’s simply part of him, and you are content to treat it as such. You abruptly lift him onto the table and lean over him as he falls backward onto his elbows, kiss his neck and his throat, suck softly to leave a mark. He groans, and it vibrates pleasantly against your lips- you smile and nuzzle him as he strokes both of your ears in return.

Perhaps, you think absently, if it _weren’t_ for the mead… but it was, it _is_ and you relish him. You continue for a moment or so- really, there’s not much you can reach with the crystal, though you do run your lips over it and wonder how it can be so warm, how you can feel his pulse fluttering, and then he presses you back and moves so _you’re_ the one sat on the table as he presses close. His mouth is clever, you remember the way he’d lick and nip at your skin to make you jump a little, and that hasn’t changed- and he presses closer yet, groans faintly at the sensation of it, as do you… and then he gasps and pulls back a bit. “Gods,” he manages, “I can’t- I _can’t,_ this is unbelievably selfish of me, I-!”

Frustrated and overheated, you grab him and pull him close to you again. “G’raha Tia, if you stop now I will do you _damage,_” you growl, pulling his mouth to yours- and with a whimper he surrenders to you, burying his hands in your hair again as he kisses you desperately. He didn’t deny it, you note absently, he didn’t refute you… and so you reach up and grab the edges of his hood, and easy as that, you push it back and down. The face that greets you is as familiar as anything, ruby-red eyes widened and a beautiful blush splashed across his cheeks and nose. “That’s better,” you mumble, and that’s all there is to it- you pull him close again, press him tightly against you. It occurs to you that the bed might be nice, fogged as you are with alcohol and desire, and you drop your hands to his hips as you push away from the table, both of you stumbling towards it. His hands are eager, already tugging your shirt out of your trousers and fumbling at the buttons- you help him, and it hits the floor along with his robe and sandals, your boots, and your trousers as well.

You take a moment to look at him when you both fall to the bed, hovering over him and just _looking_. There is heat in his gaze as he does the same, and he licks his lips and whimpers a little as he lifts his hips imploringly. He always was impatient, impatient to get you undressed and on top of him, to see you soar over the edge because of him- and that hasn’t changed, either. He says your name softly, shakily, lifts his hands to frame your face and then to rest on your shoulders as you lean over him to kiss him. He doesn’t take a passive role, however, he _never_ had- he promptly shoves you onto your back, kisses you fiercely as he presses his hips against yours. The rhythm you find is stuttering and shaky at first, though you remember, you _remember,_ and it isn’t long at all until your blood sings in your veins and you drag your nails down his back. “Raha-aaah,” you manage, and hearing you say his name ignites something that had perhaps lain dormant within for a very long time- he is _fierce_ as he kisses you, as he _claims _you.

He sits back after a blessed moment and tugs your smallclothes down and off, then looks at you from beneath veiled lashes as he takes you in hand. It had taken quite some time to get this comfortable with one another, but it’s like no time had passed at all since this night and your last spent in his arms. Slowly, _painfully_ slowly, he draws his hand down the length of you and back up, and you groan and dig your nails into the blankets as he watches you intently. Seeing how _you_ react has ever been his biggest source of pleasure, and so you learned quickly to hide nothing from him, lifting your hips shamelessly into his hand and raking your own through your hair. Carefully, gently, he rubs the pad of his index finger against the tip, then lifts it glistening to his lips- you watch him lap at it ever so slowly, and you think you have probably gone straight out of your mind already, mad as you are for him.

“The oil?” he asks, his gorgeous voice a low rumble in his chest, and your lashes flutter as you take a deep breath before reaching for the bedside drawer. You hand it to him, and he sits back and resumes his task from before, stroking you almost languidly. “Ah… perhaps I should be jealous,” he purrs. His tail flicks playfully against your legs even as yours curls at your side, tense as you are- you _want_ him, and impatient though he is, he can also be _maddeningly_ slow if it suits him… especially if it drives you wild. The mead yet lingers in your blood- and his- but much of it has been seared away, and all you can think of is him burying himself inside of you and making _sure_ you forget your time apart.

He is careful as he prepares you, though it is _quite_ strange- his right hand is not as pliant as his left, and it feels much like a toy might… not that you would know, you think as you blush scarlet. He seems happier to keep his left hand where it is, trailing fingertips and the edge of his palm along your aching need, grinning like a cat up to his ears in cream. _That_ is a look that you have thought of often as you’ve made do with your own two hands. By the time he deems you ready you are _sure_ you’ve never been this hard in your _life,_ and you are _so_ desperate for him that as he carefully positions himself, you lock your legs around his hips and _push._ He gasps as he falls forward, as you cry out, but this is what you’d needed- you can feel him, every ilm, and you have _needed_ this. He pushes himself up and kisses you, and you return it as best you can as he begins to move, dragging one hand down his back and keeping the other twined tightly in his hair. The things he says to you are beautiful and _daring,_ compliments that turn you bright red even as you arch and beg for more. You draw your knees to your chest and grip him tightly, the angle is just right, _just right-_ his name spills from your lips like a prayer with each thrust, as the edges of your thoughts begin to fray and unravel. He is utterly delighted by you, watching you intently even as he grits his teeth and furrows his brow, bowing his head a bit as he focuses on what he’s doing.

You have a heartbeat, maybe two, in which you know that you are done for. Your eyes meet his, you see them widen a touch as he _smiles-_ and then everything crashes around you as you finish with a yell that he muffles with a fierce kiss. You are dizzy with the force of it, your heart pounding as pleasure sears every nerve in your body, and when he joins you it’s like time stops- he cries your name, snaps his hips forward as hard as he can a few times… and when his strength gives out, you catch him and hold him tight and close.

When he draws back you push yourself up as well, pull him into your lap and kiss him again and again. You take his hair tie out and comb your fingers through the loose curls to see them fan around his face and shoulders, red now slowly fading to white, but no less beautiful- no less _him._ He shivers in your arms, perhaps a little shy now that the high has worn off despite _everything_ you’d just done, but he smiles dreamily at you- and you smile right back, resting your forehead against his and curling your tail around his body even as he does the same to you. “Raha,” you murmur again, and his lips part a bit in pleasure and perhaps a bit of surprise as his smile widens. “My Raha…”

Ah, how _red_ he is now, and he hides his face in the curve of your neck. He’s flushed, still, and you feel it- you trail your fingertips down the back of his neck, down his spine and wrap your arms around him again. Still, he looks back at you after a moment and nudges his nose against yours, says your name softly… and you don’t know why he suddenly looks so sad, but you know you want nothing more than to chase it from his eyes- and so you kiss him again, let the heat between you rekindle. You’ve got all night, as much time as you could want after that- you will chase these years away from him. You love him with your hands and your mouth, remind him of nights spent twined beneath his furs- or yours- in Mor Dhona, the occasional dalliance in the lake… you lose sight of where you end and he begins, and that, _that_ is what you need the most- and when you are finished, the sorrow is mostly gone as he pants against your skin and tucks himself close to you.

Morning will come and duty will come with it- and _probably_ a hangover, you think somewhat morosely- but you don’t care… not with him tucked in your arms. 

You have him, he has you- nothing else matters.


	2. At Second Glance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though the words the Exarch says are sweet, there's something in his eyes you can't quite touch... and you aren't convinced that you've reassured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, didn't think this would end up having a part two, but boy howdy, here it is :D; It's every bit as explicit as chapter 1, so be warned going into it!

The first thing you think, when you wake, is that you have made a _grievous_ error. There is a reason, a _good_ reason, that Thancred teases you about your inability to hold your liquor. You can’t remember much of anything at first, your own name included, given the pounding in your skull- you vaguely remember feeling like hell from the Light, remember a knock on the door, remember… ah, the Exarch- _G’raha!_

You sit bolt upright and look around frantically. The bed is empty, save for you- and there’s no sign of him at all in the room. Slowly, you put a hand to your head and _wince- _you should _not_ have sat up that quickly- and then look around again, this time a feeling of abject misery rising to join the hangover. Looking down at yourself, you can see that there are marks on your skin, so… it wasn’t something your traitorous mind had drummed up for the fun of it. He’d really been here, with you, and it _really was- **is**\- him._ You groan and put your aching head in your hands, and ponder whether or not you can get away with pulling the blankets over yourself and hiding for the rest of the day.

The sound of your door opening catches your attention, and your ears lift as you look up, surprised. You’d not expected anyone, and who would come in without knocking?, but when it closes again and you see who it is… ah, the smile that lights you from within is enough to chase at least some of the pain away. G’raha looks at you when the door is closed, though once again hidden behind his cowl, and he seems to hesitate before slowly walking over to you with a wrapped bundle in his hands- as well as a mug of tea.

“Good morning,” he says softly, setting the bundle on the bedside table and then offering you the mug of tea with a smile. “I thought you might need this… I’d hoped to be back before you woke, but it seems my timing was off.”

This, you think, feels better than _anything_\- that he’s thought of doing this for you, of making sure that you’re all right after the previous night’s poor decisions… no matter how well they’d ended up. You smile warmly at him and take the mug, thank him by leaning forward and kissing him softly on the cheek. You can’t see his eyes, but you can see enough of his face to see him turn slightly pink, and _ah,_ how _charming_ he is! “Thank you,” you say, taking a small sip and closing your eyes. It tastes good, very good, though you _do_ detect a hint of medicinal powder in it. You glance at him with a wry quirk to your lips. “Already drank yours, or magically unable to have a hangover?”

He chuckles quietly, turns a bit more so he can face you- and then he lifts his hands to his cowl and pushes it back. “I’m quite miserable, I assure you,” he replies, his voice somewhat dry- but he smiles and flicks his ears nevertheless. “The Tower does nothing to shield me from my own stupidity, unfortunately.” His hair is damp- he’d clearly gone to soak off his hangover in a hot pool, or at least made a good attempt at it, wanting to take care of you first and foremost.

You consider this, and then reach out to put a hand on his shoulder. He blinks, and without spilling a drop of tea, you gently tug him down so he’s resting his head on your legs. He looks startled, at least until you settle your other hand so you can gently massage his temples, and then he lets out a deep sigh and goes limp. He only shifts so that his legs aren’t hanging off the edge of the bed, and then it seems he’s content to stay exactly where he is- which is good, seeing as how this is where you want him, right here with you. You take another sip, then set the mug aside so you can do this properly, settling two fingers lightly on each side and rubbing small, tight circles. “Better?” you ask quietly, though you’re sure you know the answer.

“Much,” he replies, his voice a low purr. “Mmh…”

Relaxed as he is, you wonder if he’ll fall asleep again- and you smile to yourself as you work, pausing only to drink your tea. The next bell or so passes comfortably as your headache fades, and it does indeed seem that he has dozed off right where he is. You must have worn him out, you think, and you only feel a _little_ guilty- and only for a few seconds. Lovemaking with him has always been fun, _exciting,_ but your favorite times are those you spend in the aftermath… listening to the beat of his heart, to the soft sound of his voice as he sings for you, holding him close and just letting go for a while. You’d fallen asleep wrapped tight in him the night before, held close and almost clinging to him yourself, legs and tails tangled beneath the soft blankets that caressed your skin and shielded you from the outside world- and you’d not had nightmares, not a single one. You can’t remember what you dreamed, in fact, save that it had been good. You yawn a little as you set your empty mug aside, smile fondly down at him and drop one hand to his shoulder, carding your fingers through his hair with the other… and ruby-red eyes slowly open and peer up at you as a soft smile curves full lips. He says your name softly, and you can’t resist the urge to trail your fingers down the curve of his cheek, over the cool crystal that shines softly in the dim light of the room, and carefully over his mouth.

He laughs softly, obviously pleased, and takes your hand so he can kiss your fingertips, then your palm, then your inner wrist. He keeps his gaze on yours, even as your breath hitches and comes slightly faster, even as you tremble ever so slightly at his touch. When he says your name it makes you tremble, and you move to draw him up- and he goes willingly, placing his hands on your shoulders as he kneels next to you, the shape of your name in the air between you before he kisses you and makes you short-circuit. You remember times when you’d be in the middle of a story or, once, scolding him, and he’d interrupt you like this- it never failed, _never._ When the kiss breaks, however, you can tell this isn’t going to go the way you’d like it to… those lovely eyes of his are sad all over again, and his brow knits ever so slightly.

“Raha,” you murmur, and he flinches just a little at the sound of his name, which comes as a shock. “What’s wrong?”

He is quiet for a breath, then he rests his forehead against yours. “Forgive me,” he whispers. “… you weren’t supposed to know, not yet, and that is a name I have not heard in more than a century’s time.” He draws back and gives you a sad smile. “I am not the man you knew then, and you… you’ve changed, too.”

Your ears droop as you study his face. “So get to know me,” you reply, “and let me get to know _you._ I haven’t forgotten you, Raha, I didn’t for one second, so-!”

There he goes again, interrupting you- this time with a gentle finger, cool crystal, pressed to your lips. “You will,” he says quietly… and nothing else. Perhaps he means something else, or perhaps he’s giving you a promise… but either way, you reach up and frame his face with your hands. As you look into his eyes, you realize that, perhaps, he’s far more right than you’d thought. He’s lived for over a century, after all… and that is a _very_ long time. You slowly pin your ears and lower your hands to his shoulders, and he suddenly looks upset- he shakes his head, takes your hands and puts them back where they were, and kisses you so hard your mind reels. “Ah,” he breathes against your mouth, “but… knowing you didn’t forget me- I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” He smiles at you, and his ears wiggle in delight- for a moment, he looks _just_ as he did back then, and your heart swells to see him this way.

“Of course I didn’t.” You frown, almost pout a little- and he grins, taking the gentle teasing for what it’s meant to be. You remember nights under the stars when you spoke of the future together, when you told him of the places you wanted to take him- how delighted he was, how _eager_ to see the world and to have a first-hand account of your adventures. All of that had been cut short by his own destiny, and you couldn’t have stopped him even if you’d wanted to… which you did, truly, you _did,_ but you let him go with a kiss and a smile- and broke down later, when you were alone. You grin back, then, delicately trail one hand down his jaw- and then sit back enough to playfully flick his nose, which makes him wrinkle it in surprise. “And what’s this _you weren’t supposed to know_ business? You didn’t _really_ think I wouldn’t recognize your voice, did you?”

Here he looks a little ashamed, and he clears his throat. “Well,” he says carefully, “no…” He trails off and pins his ears sheepishly. “… maybe?”

You huff a little, then reach up and gently put your hands over his ears to smooth them back. He sighs in pleasure and tips his head, and you smile as you run your fingers over soft red fur, as you catch one between your fingers and earn yourself a quiet sound that makes you think of things you really probably oughtn’t right now… though he pushes his head a little into your hand, and you can’t help but nip at the corner of his mouth. “Well, consider your act up, then,” you say. “Don’t hide from me, Raha… I don’t want that, all right?”

He smiles helplessly at you. “I don’t think I could now, anyway,” he says. He seems resigned, but still happy and he reaches up to gently rub your ears in return, making you sigh and tip your head as well. “I didn’t expect you to get me _drunk._”

“Me?!” You give him a mock-indignant look, and he smirks a little- _ah,_ he looks _delicious_ with that expression on his face. “I’m not the one who kept draining the glass!”

“You refilled it,” he deadpans- and then laughs when you shove him down onto his back and lean over him, gently bracing some of your weight on his shoulders. How his eyes shine… he’s beautiful, entirely beautiful.

You are curious now, especially no longer being drunk, and you kiss him lightly before trailing your lips to the crystal that crawls up his cheek. You hum softly as you brush your lips against it, then down along his neck, making him grip your shoulders carefully- and making _you_ realize that you are entirely naked and he is entirely _not._ Fixing that is no problem at all, seeing as how you’d managed to get him out of the robes easily enough the night before, and he helps in your endeavor, swiftly ridding himself of his sandals and the leather sleeve- straps?- as well. You think you might have to ask him about that, or maybe tease him- but you’d rather explore, especially seeing him in the dim light of your room. The crystal glitters tantalizingly, and you trace it from his neck and over his collarbone, down his side and over his hip before looking at him curiously. “This is… because of the Tower?”

He nods. “I’ll tell you the whole story,” he breathes, “but- maybe not now.” He smiles sheepishly. “I want to enjoy this for the time being. It’s enough that you don’t find me ugly.”

The idea of that is unpleasant, and you frown and shake your head before kissing his chin, then nibbling delicately at the crystal on his jaw to hear him gasp and make him clutch at you in surprise. “You’re beautiful,” you mumble, kissing down to the hollow of his throat and gently lapping at his fluttering pulse with the tip of your tongue. You pause, then peer at his neck, squint as if trying to see through the crystal there- and just barely, you can see the tattoos that he’d been so intensely proud of back then. You smile and nose at his cheek, then trace the pattern as best you can over the crystal with the tip of your tongue- he shudders and clutches at your shoulders, and you wonder if he can feel it. When you ask him, he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yes,” he says slowly, “but not… not as well. It’s not so much that I can feel it, but that you…” He trails off and blushes, pulls you close and tips his head back so you can do it again. “I _remember,_ he says, his voice breaking a little, “I remember you doing this before, and I… ahh…!”

You grin mischievously at him, sit back and perch astride his thighs, then take his right hand and bring it to your lips. He sits up, mussed and flushed, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he watches you slowly take his index finger into your mouth. You look at him from beneath veiled lashes, watching his every reaction, taking in how his ears flick and his tail drags along the blankets. His eyes dart from your lips to the way you cradle his arm and hand carefully against you, up to your eyes and back again as though he can’t decide which is most alluring. You take your time, lapping gently at each crystalline finger, pressing soft kisses to his palm and his inner wrist as he did to you earlier. Your breath is hot against the crystal, warming it as you go, and you can’t help the self-satisfied smile that curves your lips at the way he trembles, pupils blown wide with desire. “Raha,” you say softly, teasingly- and with that, it’s his turn to shove _you_ down, staring at you nose to nose.

“You, _you_-!” So flustered is he that he can’t quite come up with what he wants to say, and so he kisses you with all the ferocity in his slight form… which, you think dazedly, is _quite a lot._ Your lips feel hot and swollen when the kiss breaks, and he pants softly against them as he stares down at you again, his tail swishing back and forth on the edges of your vision. “You drive me to utter distraction, do you know that?” he asks, his voice a low, rough purr that sends lightning through your veins. “Even then, when I would try to focus on my studies, you would come into the tent and all I could think about was…!”

That he still seems somewhat shy when it comes to actually speaking of his desires is endlessly charming to you, and you smile up at him, resting your hands palm-up by your head. “Was?” you ask delicately, though he can most certainly see the mischief in your gaze and the quirk of your lips.

“_You,_” he growls, though the blush on his face is utterly adorable- and you grin as you pull him down for another kiss. You can’t seem to get enough of him, but that’s fair, considering he seems to feel the very same about you. He draws back just a little, though, and the look he gives you tells you that you’re in for a treat. “And, as it happens, I’ve had well over a century with nothing more than my own hands and your name on my lips- for now, you are _mine._”

Ah, how that makes _you_ shiver this time- and you let your breath out in a soft rush as he nips at your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin until he finds the spot that always makes you gasp- and there he bites down, forcing your spine into a tight arch. “Raha-!” He makes that soft purring sound again, tail lashing back and forth, then sits back and pulls you up with him.

“For today,” he breathes into your ear, making you shudder, “at least for today…” He trails off and then leans back, taking your hands and linking your fingers together. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question, you think, _especially_ given your history. You tilt your head and flick your ears, puzzled. “Of course,” you begin, and he silences you with another kiss. “Rah-?” You cut off his name with a surprised sound as you see the swirl of aether surround you both, feel his touch against your own as sure as you feel the press of his body- and then the inn room disappears, and is replaced by the soothing stillness of the Crystal Tower. You make a surprised sound and look around, then look down and see that you are still seated on a bed- his, you imagine, from the look of the room. You look at him in vague awe, but you can’t resist the urge to tease him even as he smiles at you. “… so you can lift us from my bed to yours flawlessly, and yet you dumped me in the middle of Lakeland when you Called me here?”

He pouts, he actually _pouts_ as he did back then, nose in the air, and you are _delighted_. “That,” he sniffs, “is because I Called you from an entirely different shard. It's _far_ more complicated.”

“Is it?” you muse teasingly. You’re about to tease him further when he knocks you back onto the mattress, and you both laugh- and then you gasp softly and he makes a quiet sound as his weight settles onto your hips. The Tower is always cold, but it feels warm in here, and you wonder if it’s his own doing. He doesn’t seem strained or even like he’s thinking of anything other than how many ways he can potentially have you over the next few bells, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hook one leg around his hips, which makes him whimper quietly. “Well,” you breathe into his ear, “let’s not waste any more time.”

“No,” he mumbles, “not another second.” He moves back and draws you up, crawls into your lap and kisses you senseless as he reaches down to take you in hand. None of this has dampened your ardor in the least, and he makes a quiet sound into the kiss when he feels how slick you are. “Ah, but I’ve left you wanting,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Forgive me…”

It’s difficult to think with him stroking you as he is, and you rest your hands on his arms before reaching down to give him the same treatment- and, gently, he bats your hand away. You groan faintly and rest your forehead against his. “Raha, I want-!”

“Shh.” He nips at your lips, then smiles against them. “Show me, then,” he whispers. This time when you reach down he doesn’t protest, instead letting out a shaky sigh as you draw your fingers up the length of him and find him needing you as much as you need him. Your breath mingles with his as you take him in a firm grasp, and for a moment this is well enough, but there’s _more_ you want. He’d bid you show him, and so you shift so you can lay him down on the mattress, then glance up at him and smirk a little before gripping him once more and brushing your tongue against him. He tastes just as you remember, and reacts the same as well, gasping and pressing his hips up as he tangles his hands in your hair. When you take him between your lips he whines softly and tightens his grip, then lets go to toy with your ears, knowing this drives you wild. You are utterly focused on your task, however, and though the tingles shooting through you are very pleasant, there’s more to be done before you can think about much else.

Slowly, carefully, you take as much of him in as you can. He draws his knees up and rests his feet on either side of your chest, half-formed compliments and praises and oaths spilling from his lips as he struggles to control himself- but he can’t, and you know this, urging him on by the way you swallow around him. He growls and grips your hair again, gasps your name and arches his back- and unable to stop himself, his hips buck beneath your hands. You don’t mind, seeing as how you can more or less control things, and you let out a pleased hum as a ragged cry escapes him. His fingers spasm a bit as he flexes them in time with his racing heartbeat, tense and almost struggling- and when you feel him twitch uncontrollably, you smile to yourself and swallow as much as you can as he cries your name into the silence of the Tower.

Once he goes bonelessly limp beneath you, you sit back with a satisfied grin and lick your lips. He is panting, struggling to regain himself- and when he looks up at you, his ruby eyes widen as the blush on his face darkens. You must look quite the sight, with his hands having made a mess of your hair and your lips soft and inviting, and he groans faintly before pushing himself up and almost falling into your arms, licking your lips and the side of your chin before laughing quietly, helplessly, and pressing his face into the curve of your neck. You’d not noticed _that_ detail, and you grin to yourself and hold him tight. He’s so adorable… so beautiful- and, gods, you want him _so_ badly, not just like this but all the years you’d lost, all the more _he_ had- you want him by your side.

He doesn’t remain still forever, the sweet weight of him against your body withdrawing as he smirks up at you, reaches down and trails his fingertips over you in such a way that makes you shake. “Do you still want more?” he asks, and that _voice_ of his- you would do more or less anything if he asked you in _that_ tone. You nod emphatically, and he kisses you hard before withdrawing just long enough to pick up a small glass bottle that had been on the bedside table.

“Maybe _I_ should be jealous,” you counter, recalling his words from the night before- your voice is rough with want and from the vague ache in your throat, but that had been worth it and much more, so you put it from your mind immediately. You grin at him as he presses it into your hand, as he kisses your jaw and bites just beneath it, making you gasp.

“I already told you,” he replies, and _ah,_ the way he speaks-! “You’ve naught to be jealous of… but, if it makes you all the more eager, who am I to stop you?”

You take your time in preparing him, even though he is impatient- he wants to watch you lose command of yourself, and by the time you’re satisfied that you won’t hurt him he’s already shoved you onto your back and positioned himself above your hips. You look up at him in a mixture of surprise and awe and utter adoration, and he smiles down at you before he slowly lowers himself onto you. His expression changes then, eyes closing tight and brows coming together in a sharp frown as his lips part, and you reach up to slow him- but he is determined, and he slowly opens his eyes a few breaths later, giving you a breathless smile. “I have a confession to make,” he breathes, and he draws almost all the way back up before sinking down, drawing a deep breath through his nose and letting it out shakily as you grip his hips carefully. “Ah-… _ah,_ I’ve w-wanted this, wanted you…” He repeats the motion and shivers from head to toe, ears pinned and tail lashing back and forth before curling itself around your arm. “Even though it’s selfish of me… you are…”

Whatever he was going to say is lost in the way he leans forward and kisses you, in the roll of your hips and the gasping cries he lets out. It’s too soon for him to find an ending for himself, but he doesn’t care- he keeps his eyes on yours, watches you as the pleasure builds to a boiling point inside of you. He braces himself carefully with his right hand on your shoulder and his left on your chest, and only a few breaths more and you gasp his name and then _yell_ it with all the force you have as your climax slams into you like a tidal wave. He does nothing to silence you this time, face flushed and eyes bright as he watches you- he moves over you like a prayer, kisses you as your breath comes in ragged pants, and sinks into you as you wrap your arms around him and pull him close. He hums softly, happily, and nuzzles your neck… and you silently thank each of the Twelve for this moment, for _him._

After he draws away and lays down beside you, you tuck him beneath your chin and close your eyes, bury your face in his hair and just breathe. He’s so amazingly warm, and you remember nights with him burning hot against you in Mor Dhona, chasing away the chill in the air and seeing how far he could push you before you broke and cried out… or like this, just laying with you, holding you close in his arms as you idly spoke of whatever came to mind. You yawn a little, and he chuckles low and rich.

“I’ve done my job well, I see,” he says, amused. “Go to sleep, if you want to… nobody can reach you here.”

You chuckle softly. You are tired, but pleasantly so, and not enough to want to miss a second of this time with him. “You’re saying you’ve kidnapped me?” you ask.

He makes a surprised sound, then laughs and hugs you tight. “I suppose I have,” he muses. “The Crystal Exarch taking the Warrior of Darkness prisoner and holding him in the Tower… that _does_ sound like a good story.”

“I like it,” you agree, grinning and burying your nose in his hair. “Mm… but how does it end?”

He tenses ever so slightly beneath your hands, enough that you think you’ve imagined it- maybe he’s just cold, you think, and you draw the heavy blankets up over you both. “How indeed,” he murmurs. “I suppose we’ll have to find out as we write it.”

There’s something in his voice that worries you a little, and you hold him all the closer. Maybe he’s afraid of losing you along the way… of having to say goodbye again, and this time no more ready than the last. “Raha,” you murmur. He tucks himself close against your body, then draws back a bit to look you in the eye. You smile and lift a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, the color more muted now, fading to white at the tips. He _is_ older, but you don’t care… you never could. “I love you,” you tell him, and as his eyes fill with tears, you continue. “If I’m the one holding the pen- ah, well then. Both worlds are saved by the dashing heir to the Allagan empire and the Warrior of Darkness, probably via some incredibly foolish and yet _brilliant _scheme, who are then left in peace to live happily ever after.” You smile and tap him on the nose, brush his tears away… but more replace them, and you frown a little. “Raha…?”

“Ah- forgive me,” he says, laughing a little- or trying to- and scrubbing at his eyes. “Time has made a sentimental fool out of me.” He smiles at you through them. “I like the sound of that, very much. I love you more than I can put into words. … don’t forget that, when you go off on your next adventure.”

“Never,” you swear- and you hold him close, kiss his tears away… but even as he clings to you and you croon gently to him, you’re not entirely certain that you’ve reassured him.

Luckily, you’ve got time on your side- one last Lightwarden, which you are certain you can handle, and then he will be all yours.

You smile, and you hold him tighter.


	3. Who We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty heavy on angst (and pretty short in comparison to the last two), so be warned if you're a fluffball like me. :D; I don't know, I've always found it to be pretty telling when reading or writing something makes me cry, so HOPEFULLY y'all will enjoy the product of my suffering :|

You can’t stand to be in your room.

Nobody asks why you leave it as soon as you wake, at least after your chat with Ardbert- and he, too, seems to have some degree of understanding. You take yourself out into the Crystarium, but even there you feel like you’re about to crawl out of your skin. Everyone is _heartbroken,_ and you can’t blame them, because you are, too… and the worst thing, the _worst,_ is that you can’t even cry. You can barely _breathe._ You will do something, you will fix this, but for now all you see are ruby eyes filled with tears… and all you hear is the sound of steel giving way to aether.

It’s the same.

It’s the _same._

It drives the breath from your body, the strength from your legs, and you are glad nobody is around to see you drop to your knees as you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping that maybe this will keep you from falling apart at the seams. You are_ broken_, the pieces of you scattered the length and breadth of Norvrandt, torn asunder by the very thing which might have saved your life… at the cost of _his._

_Fare you well, my friend… my inspiration!_

His voice echoes in your ears, and you lift your hands to cover them, pushing them against your skull as though that might shut out the sound of his voice. Bending double, you retch onto the ground beneath you, pale white bile that heralds your eventual and- perhaps inevitable downfall. To have come so far and met an ending like this one… you could scream yourself hoarse and nothing would change, except the fact that you might die all the faster if you let your emotions get the better of you.

_Ah, do not look at me so…_

You let go of your ears and claw at the grass, digging your fingers into the soil as hard as you can. Your heart pounds as you struggle with yourself, as so many things begin to fall into place- as you know it’s only a matter of time.

_I didn’t forget you, Raha, not for a single second-!_

_You will._

You’d let him pass it off, told yourself that _surely_ he’d meant you’d have the chance to get to know him… but now, looking back, he’d known all along what he’d planned on doing- and he’d meant what he said. The words hang in the vast chasm between you now, a solid weight that you aren’t sure how to move, but you will, by the _Twelve,_ you _will-!_

_I love you more than I can put into words. … don’t forget that, when you go off on your next adventure._

He hadn’t planned on being here, you think numbly, he hadn’t planned on seeing you ever again- instead he was going to take this horrific pain from you, suffer it all himself- fall to it, _die_ to it, so _you_ wouldn’t have to. Strong as he was, he couldn’t survive this longer than it would take for him to fling himself into the Rift, and then… and then he… 

But, you think, even though that had been his ultimate goal, he still had dreams and hopes unfulfilled- all this time spent waiting for you, tirelessly researching and struggling against the future he knew was coming… he’d not lived his own life, not truly. You remember his words on the cliffs, as you sat side by side together and looked ahead, far beyond Vauthry and the Light that now burns in the sky above the Crystarium once more. He’d wanted to travel with you, to see the world with you… to know, to _know_ that there was more to life than what little he’d been able to experience.

_For the battles yet un-won…_

It makes you feel sick to know that your life is more important than his, in the eyes of necessity_._ A living, breathing legend for the rest of the world, savior of realms and worlds and shards alike, however one wishes to view it- a fever-dream, a manifestation in the smoke of a campfire in a ruined world. To him, however, you are the person beneath the titles and accolades, beneath the blood and the dirt and the scars. You are the person he trusts more than anyone, the person he loves with all his heart- his dearest, most cherished one. It’s an added bonus that you are what you are, and in his mind perhaps it makes it easier to tell himself that this is why he’s done what he has, but you- you aren’t so sure, not anymore. Your world has been tipped upside down and kicked from its axis, finds itself floating adrift in the endless sea of fear and grief, and nothing makes sense right now.

“_What will you do after this is all over?”_

_“Hmm?” He peers up at you from where he is comfortably tucked against your side. His cowl is up, but this close to him and from the angle you’re at, you can see his face clearly. He still looks sleepy, and the bruises under his eyes speak of his need to return to the Tower. “After this is over… indeed.” He turns his gaze out to the landscape beyond the cliff and smiles a little. “… I should… like to go on an adventure with you, I think. I want to see the world through your eyes- not the jaded ones of a soul who has lived far beyond what it was ever meant to.” Here he smiles wearily, rests his head on your shoulder again. “In my fervor to set things aright, I’ve rather lost sight of the young man I was when we met. If I had the choice, I should like to remember who G’raha Tia was.”_

_You hold him tighter. “Well then,” you say, “that’s what we’ll do. It’s our story, after all- we can write it however we like.”_

_He looks up at you again and smiles, but his eyes… you know something’s wrong, you **know** it, but he won’t even allude to it. “That’s true. This is but one chapter- who knows what the next will bring?”_

You have to remind yourself to breathe, to keep your emotions firmly in check. Damn him, he’d been telling you his plan all along in his own way… and _you,_ more the fool you for not having heard him clearly!

_At journey’s end, an opportunistic thief comes to steal the hero’s prize. A paltry way to end a chapter, I’ll admit…_

That’s what he’d meant. Not our story, _your _story. All along, _all along_ it should have been _so_ obvious to you, and you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t even realize you’re crying until hot tears fall and land on your hands, until you choke and cough and for a wild moment you think _this is it, this is it-!_, and then there are hands on your shoulders, firm and comforting, and you cling to that sensation and drag yourself back.

For a moment you dig your fingers into the grass again and just breathe, then slowly lift your head and look back at the owner of said hands- Thancred, thank the gods, who has been through the wringer himself and is _more_ than smart enough to keep his mouth shut about this should the others come asking. You are well aware that you look an absolute disaster, but you try to smile a little even so- he doesn’t buy it, and you aren’t surprised. He keeps his hands on you until you’ve managed to regain yourself, then slowly draws them back and studies you.

“Who is he?” he asks simply, and that question nearly tears you to pieces all over again, but you rally. G’raha, the Exarch, deserves better from you than your tears watering the grass outside the Crystarium.

With that in mind, you answer Thancred as best you can. “His real name is G’raha Tia,” you say, focusing on light brown eyes and tightening your grasp on your self-control. “He is- was… is? A member of the Students of Baldesion.” One breath in, one breath out. “I knew him before. … before this.” You gesture lamely in the direction of the Crystarium, of the Crystal Tower.

Thancred stares at you for a moment, then exhales and drops his head. “Well,” he mutters, “the Ascian wasn’t lying- about him being from the Source, at least.” He looks up at the sky, then at you again, expression carefully impassive. “And how long have you known this?”

“I found out right before we left for Kholusia.” You smile sadly and bow your head. Best not to dwell on that, you think. “… well… truthfully, I knew all along, but I got him to admit it then.” Your eyes fill with tears despite your best efforts, and you try to laugh, but it comes out as a strangled sob. “He came to check on me when we came back from Ahm Araeng and we got drunk, and…” You shake your head, lift your hands and press the heels against your eyes. Breathe, you remind yourself, _breathe._

“I see.” Thancred is quiet, then he looks up at the Tower. “I remember your foray to Mor Dhona, though I obviously could not accompany you at the time.” He snorts faintly. “I wasn’t allowed to leave the Waking Sands for _moons._ … so that’s where you met him- once we’ve gotten him back from Emet-Selch and solved your problem, I’d like to hear him tell the story himself.”

The rogue’s confidence gives you hope, and you look at him and try again to smile a little- and this time, he smiles back. “Thank you,” you whisper. He nods and helps you rise, and you stretch a little before looking back at the Crystarium, ears drooping a little. “I’m not quite ready to go back yet.”

Thancred nods. “I’ll be nearby,” he says, and walks away to give you your privacy. You are thankful for it, for _him,_ and you make a note to be certain to speak with him after all is said and done so he knows for sure what an impact his support has had on you.

When you go back to the Crystarium, you still don’t particularly want to face anyone- so you retreat up to his favorite spot in the Rookery, high above Lakeland, and sit there silently. It isn’t quite the same, but you are fondly reminded of the scaffolding in Mor Dhona, and you touch the wood planks beneath you with a faint smile. You’d been so unimpressed when you’d first met him, at least until he’d hit the ground and you’d realized that, though somewhat annoying, he was _very_ easy to look at- and listen to. Though prone to mischief, he was respectful of you when the two of you were in the tent you shared, often sharing his eager excitement over the things he’d learned and gleaned from what you’d found so far- and you couldn’t help but smile, even as your eyes glazed over a bit.

You close them, now, tipping your face to the wind and breathing in slowly. Ah… how optimistic the two of you had been, how wholly assured of your places in the world. Nothing could possibly go wrong- how could it, when you stood on the cusp of such a wonderous discovery? His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel the sparkle of excitement dancing through your blood when you looked up at the Tower with him by your side. You were both young and strong, and you weren’t nearly as jaded then as you are now… but his eyes, they always shone when they looked at you, both then _and_ here on the First. Whatever it was he saw in you, you weren’t sure you understood it- but you also knew it didn’t matter, so long as he kept seeing it. You still aren’t, truth be told.

_“Are you cold?” He sounds baffled- if he ever is himself, he certainly doesn’t show it._

_You glare at him from beneath your nest of blankets, peering out the side so that you’re exposed to as little of the frigid air as is possible. “This surprises you?” you ask somewhat waspishly. “It’s freezing! I can barely sleep without wearing my armor, boots included!”_

_He grins at you from his own cot, where he’s seated cross-legged with whatever musty tome it is that’s caught his attention this time. “Perhaps you need someone to warm your bed,” he suggests teasingly. “Given the looks I’ve seen following you around, it shouldn’t be hard to find someone.”_

_“With all the time you spend buried in those books of yours, I’m surprised you know anything about it.” You harrumph at him, but you aren’t truly angry or even annoyed- you’ve come to like him, when he isn’t being insufferably arrogant._

_“Hmph! I do,” he replies, putting his nose in the air and lifting a finger as if to scold you._

_You can’t help but grin. “Because there are books on every subject?” you suggest._

_The indignant look he gives you in response makes you burst out laughing. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly well-versed in such things,” he says, returning to his book with a haughty sniff- but, you think, his lips are curved… he’s enjoying the banter as much as you are, despite the tinge of pink splashed across his cheeks. “Besides,” he says, “that isn’t what I meant- you can’t have someone with your armor on.”_

_“You think not?” You grin at him again, and the look he gives you makes your grin widen. “Shall I prove it?”_

_“I’ll find myself another tent for the duration if you’ve a mind to,” he replies, looking back down at his book. “You’re enough of a distraction as it is.”_

_You laugh. “You suggested it in the first place!” you reply. When his only reply his a flick of his ears, you hum softly. “Well,” you say, “and **since** you did… why don’t you do the honors?”_

_Another flick of his ears. “Why don’t I do what?” he replies, his tone a bit difficult to read._

_“Warm my bed.” You bite down hard on another laugh when his ears stand straight up in shock, and he looks at you with an expression to match._

_“You’re-… hm.” His gaze becomes contemplative, and he closes the book on his lap- after marking his place carefully- and sets it aside. “And what if I said yes?” he challenges._

_You pull your blankets back just a little, showing that you are, in fact, not wearing your armor at all- but rather a soft pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. “Then I’ll know for sure whether or not you know what you’re talking about,” you say with a smirk in return. “Come on, then, before I freeze solid!”_

_He rises and stretches, then smirks right back, which sends a wave of heat through your body. He can’t see your tail, luckily, because you can feel your fur rising as you struggle not to shiver- and not at all due to the cold. “Very well,” he says. “I’ll accept your challenge.” That is, in fact, what it had been, after all- and he swiftly divests himself of the blanket he’d had wrapped around his shoulders before climbing into your bedroll, wearing a sleeveless shirt and the same sort of soft trousers you have on._

_You squawk indignantly as he tucks close to you. “You’re a liar!” you cry. “You’re like a block of ice!”_

_“I never said I wasn’t cold,” he says, and he grins at you nose to nose. “Why don’t you warm me up, then?”_

Even as the memory makes you smile, you feel tears trailing down your cheeks. Luckily it isn’t the same sort of searing pain as before, that made you panic and wonder if the Light was finally going to consume you- instead it’s a deep-seated sorrow, the same thing you felt when the Tower doors swung closed behind him. He’s right, you think, but gods, more than _anything_ you want to get to know who he is now- because you love him so much you don’t know what to do with yourself. There is a piece of you that has been missing since the day you bid him farewell, and you know well why that is- he had taken it with him when he left. There is a cold ache deep inside of you that has never truly gone away, and how can it with mementos scattered all around?

_You walk slowly back to the tent you shared with him and stare at it blankly, as though something about it doesn’t make sense- and it doesn’t, it **doesn’t,**_ _not with him gone. The others give you a wide berth as you mourn, doing so as though he’d died- because he may as well have, so far as you’re concerned. There’s no way you’ll live long enough to see him again, not even if the Twelve grant you favor enough to see a respectable old age… which you aren’t certain of, given the things you get up to. There’s nothing, nothing, that will change that- not all your prayers, your tears, your desperate wishes._

_You’ve never felt quite this hopeless before._

_Tempted as you are to abandon what scant possessions you have and never go inside again, you force yourself to, and your ears pin flat to your head when the flap of the tent falls closed behind you. You’d long since given up the pretense of having separate beds, and how he’d teased you when you’d wistfully suggested piling his blankets atop yours as well- don’t I warm you enough? he’d asked, and you’d sworn up and down that the first thing you’d do once this was done was take him to Costa del Sol and set up camp **there** for a while. Now alone in your tent, two become one, you think that you’ll never set foot there again if you can help it- not in Mor Dhona, not in Costa del Sol, not anywhere you’d dreamed of going with him._

_You will, of course, duty will force you to, but it makes you feel a little better to tell yourself otherwise._

_You crouch down by the bed and begin packing your things, keeping your eyes firmly on your bag until it blurs in your vision… and then you give in, press your face into his pillow and scream, **scream**-_

_… but nothing changes, and you know it never will._

It is, you think, somewhat of a miracle that nobody had noticed when you’d blanched at the idea of relocating the Scions' base from Thanalan to Mor Dhona. It had taken _months_ for you to be able to fall asleep without crying yourself that way, and they wanted you to return there? Your poker face is the envy of every tavern, or so Thancred has told you before- while trying to beat you at cards- and it has saved you a great deal of awkwardness, so it’s with some amount of relief that you keep your head down and help get things organized. You went, mainly because you had no choice… but you were far less than thrilled about it.

As awful as you felt at the time, being stuck in Ishgard came as somewhat of a relief. You had more than enough to do to keep your mind well off of the past, and you didn’t have to worry about going back for a while.

You hear a voice from behind you, breaking you out of your thoughts, and you rise and turn to face Feo Ul. There will be time for this, _all_ of this, you promise yourself as you give them your attention- now is the time for action. With a goal firmly in mind and your somewhat eccentric pixie friend leading you to the road you needed to find, you take a breath and take the first step down it as you head toward the Crystarium.

You will have him back.

You _will._


	4. Ending, Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this took a bit longer to get out than I expected :D;; I'm not sure I'll add more on until 5.1 gives me more to work with, but I may strike up a collection of one-shots in the meanwhile.
> 
> Sadly :| the area I describe later on in the chapter doesn't actually exist, and yes, I flew myself ALL AROUND THE LAKE looking for a good place to set that scene. So, I made one up for myself. :D
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading- and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It’s been two days since you’ve seen him.

Upon returning to the Crystarium, the Light gone- for good- and the First saved, the revelry was _unmatched._ You’d been pulled in so many different directions that your head spun, everyone wanting to toast you and your incredible achievements, but all you’d cared about was _him-_ and by the end of the night, you couldn’t find him. Luckily you’re no fool, you know _exactly_ where he’s gone to hide, and for what feels like the hundredth day you trudge up the stairs to the Dossal Gate and bid the guard let you pass. You wonder what he thinks of you, and you decide you don’t really care- nothing else is as important right now as getting G’raha to come out of hiding.

As you walk through the Tower and up toward the Ocular, you think back on the events of the past few days with a mixture of sorrow and elation. The conflict between you and Emet-Selch, in the end, could only be fatal- there was no going back from where the Ascian had driven you, not after stealing G’raha away from you and _hurting_ him. You’d thought, absently, that it seemed rather a waste that he’d not taken advantage of G’raha’s vast wealth of power and knowledge of time travel- given that he’d spent all the energy he had to create Amaurot. He’d been baiting you, of course, you see it now. He’d wanted you to be determined enough, _angry_ enough, to face him with your full strength- and he’d known just how to make that happen.

Well, you think grimly, he’d gotten his wish.

The Tower is quiet, it always is, the sound of your footsteps echoing gently as you climb the stairs. He’d not forbidden you entry, which is perhaps telling, but the guard had made it clear that the Exarch wished otherwise to be left alone. You are nearly beside yourself with worry for him, powerful as he is… he has undoubtedly healed himself, at least physically. The rest, you fear, he won’t be able to do alone… thus your unending need to _reach_ him. You are undaunted by the height of the Tower, scaling it as though it’s nothing, and when you reach the doors to the Ocular you sigh to yourself before reaching out and trying to open them.

Locked. Of course.

You exhale and put a hand on the door, then lean on it. “Raha,” you call, “honestly, you can’t hide in there forever…”

Silence.

You wait for a moment, then huff and turn, resting your back against the door. “I’m not going anywhere until you speak to me,” you say stubbornly.

Silence.

Fine, you think, you can wait. There’s nowhere you need to be. Things on the Source are fine, things on the First are fine, there’s nothing- for once- you are needed for… save this, by him. You cross your arms and let your head fall back against the wood with a soft thunk, stare up at the ceiling with your ears down. “I’m not mad at you, you know,” you say softly. “How could I be? I’m just glad to have you back… I didn’t think I could stand being separated from you again. I still don’t.” You close your eyes and smile sadly. “Even if you never speak to me again after this… if you’re alive, the rest doesn’t matter.”

Silence. _Still._ … and then, after a moment, you hear the door click- and you push away from it just in time for it to slowly open. You see his hand first, gripping the wood so hard that his knuckles are white, and then he finally peers out at you. His ears are pinned flat to his head, and he drops his gaze to the floor and keeps it there. You can tell he has no plan on speaking first, so you do the first thing that comes to mind- you reach out and place your hand over his. He looks up at you in surprise, ruby eyes widening, and you touch your lips to his. His eyes widen further, fill with tears that spill over immediately, and for a fevered second you think he will pull away and slam the door and that will be that- but he slowly relaxes a little, slips his hand from beneath yours to rest at your waist, to fist gently in the shirt you wear. His breath comes quick against your lips- it’s still perhaps not _quite_ what you can call a kiss, but by your reckoning it’s close enough. His voice breaks as he says your name, and that’s all the motivation you need to move closer, to draw him away from the door and to hold him close in your arms.

It’s a long moment before he says anything- it seems he’s barely breathing as you hold him, as though he’s afraid that he’ll shatter the moment if he moves. He finally makes a soft sound and takes a breath, then looks up at you. “Come with me,” he murmurs, and you nod. You’d go anywhere he went, truly… he but had to ask, and you’d agree. He holds onto your hand and leads you into the Ocular, waves the door closed behind you and takes you into the Umbilicus… and from there, a portal takes you deeper into the Tower, into the room he’d dropped you in the day before you left for Kholusia. You know now why he keeps a pile of blankets on his bed, though he himself is like a furnace and winds up shoving the majority of them away on the rare occasion he does sleep, and you know why he has a secret fondness for romantic stories with happy endings. You’d been unable to let him go in a similar fashion, but where you had avoided the things he’d liked, he’d surrounded himself with the things _you_ did- because he knew he would see you again.

He looks at you, then bows his head again. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you until now,” he murmured. “The first time I was… asleep is perhaps not the best word- and the rest, I just… I couldn’t face you, knowing… what I put you through.”

You close your eyes, then rest your hands on his shoulders. “Raha,” you murmur. “It’s fine… it’s enough that I can see you now.” You hesitate, then smile a little. “… but I hope you’ll want to see me again after this, too.”

He is surprised, then he bites his lip hard and closes his eyes before taking a slow breath. “I want to,” he breathes, looking at you again. “I do. … but we, you and I…”

“We,” you say softly, slowly slipping your hands from his shoulders so you can wrap your arms around him, “you and I- have been apart too long. I don’t want that, Raha, and even if you don’t- if you _can’t_\- … I am still your friend, and that before all else.”

His beautiful eyes fill with tears again, and he lifts a hand to cover them as he bows his head again. “How can you stand to be around me when I-”

“When you tried to save my life?” You interrupt, making him look up at you in surprise, tears glistening in his eyes and slowly trailing down his face. “When you did this, _all_ of this, to save not one world but _two?_ When you risked literally everything for this?”

“I _lied_ to you,” he manages, gripping your shirt tighter. “I lied to all of you! I put all of you in danger, _especially_ you! I knew what would happen to you and still, I…!”

You exhale and rest your forehead against his then draw back and lift your other hand. He watches you, almost braces himself- and then his eyes cross a little when you put your index finger on the tip of his nose before he looks back at your face. “You did,” you say softly. “You had your reasons. I don’t… I don’t agree with them- I would have helped you regardless, you have to know that.”

His ears, already flat to his head, quiver as he looks up at you. “I didn’t want to presume,” he breathed. “It’s been years… years since you bade me farewell, far more since I woke and learned what had happened to you. As the years went on I found myself further and further distanced from who I was then- from everything I’d known and held dear. At first, being the Crystal Exarch was a guise I put on out of necessity, but I have become that in truth, and I… _he_ could protect you, where G’raha Tia could not.” His expression begs you to understand, though you aren’t really sure you do. “That is why I hid my identity from you, why I told you the morning after we… that you weren’t supposed to know, not yet. I knew I was going to bid you farewell all over again, and I made my peace with that as best I could. I didn’t want you to mourn me again, and because of my selfishness…”

“_Your_ selfishness?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I was under the impression that it took two people to do what we did. … or more, I suppose, but- _two,_ in our case. Don’t take that responsibility all on your own.” You flick your ears and smile gently, then tap him on the tip of his nose. “Raha. … even had I really been forced to say goodbye to you- I would have rather had those bells with you than the rest of my life to kick myself for not trying to get you to tell me the truth. _That_ would have been worse.”

His lips part as he studies you, then he slowly lifts his other hand to cup your face. “You are far more than I deserve,” he whispers. “After all of this…”

You pause, then smile at him as you settle your hand on his shoulder. “Well,” you say, “if you _really_ want to make it up to me…” He nods slightly, and when you grin he looks a little startled. “We’re leaving, then. Right now.”

“Wh- now?” Startled becomes _stunned,_ and his eyes widen. “But I- there’s-…”

“There’s what?” Your voice is gentle. “You were full ready to leave and never come back. The Crystarium is fine, you’ve seen to that with everything you’ve done… and you told me in Kholusia that you wanted to travel with me, to remember who you were back then. We never had the chance then and almost didn’t now, but by the Twelve- I’m not letting it pass by a third time.” You want this, you _want_ it more than _anything_. “Please… say yes?”

His brow knits as he stares into your eyes, and you wonder what he’s looking for. Finally, a slow, wondering smile curves his lips- and he nods. “Yes,” he says quietly- and then nothing more for a moment, because you’re kissing him breathless and he’s clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. When the kiss breaks, he makes a soft sound and leans against you, then laughs quietly- but there’s no humor in it. “… but,” he whispers, “that isn’t the only reason I was selfish. I did this for the First and the Source, but… chiefly- for _you._”

You remember what he’d said to Urianger, and you smile and close your eyes, resting your forehead against his again. Ah, he feels so good in your arms, solid and warm and _real-_ at this point you couldn’t care less about much anything else. “I know,” you say softly. “I love you, too.”

His breath catches, and then he lets out a sound that might be a laugh or a sob- you aren’t sure- and he holds on all the tighter. “You forgive me that easily?” he manages, looking up at you and shaking his head slightly.

“Hmm…” You tilt your head and pretend to consider it, and he huffs softly and presses his face against your neck. You smile and close your eyes, holding him close and brushing a kiss against his temple. “Letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done… so… you’re going to be the one who has to forgive _me,_ because this time I’m not going to let go. At all.”

He trembles a little, and for a few seconds you’re afraid you’ve made him cry again- but then you hear him start to laugh helplessly, and he holds on all the tighter. After a moment, he takes a breath and lets it out, then looks up at you with a teary-eyed smile. “Well, then,” he says, gathering himself just as he had after you’d defeated Emet-Selch, “it seems like it’s the Warrior of Darkness who is kidnapping the Crystal Exarch, this time. What will happen next, I wonder?”

“Well,” you say, “I’m sure there’s something about living happily ever after in there somewhere…” You flick your ears and smile at him. “Why don’t we find out?”

“I’m ready. I’ve been ready for centuries.” He pauses, then looks down at his clothing- he isn’t wearing his typical robes, you note, but rather something that greatly resembled what he’d worn to sleep in all those years ago… at least until he started sleeping with you. “I should probably change first,” he says, giving you a sheepish glance. “Pray allow me a moment, and I will meet you outside.”

You are tempted to make a coy joke, but something tells you that now isn’t the right time, and so you just smile faintly and nod. He lifts his hand, smiles at you, and speaks a word of command- and you find yourself outside the Tower once more, blinking owlishly in the bright sunlight. You look up, then grin to yourself and flick your tail in delight. That had gone _far_ better than you’d thought it might have, and you are more than ready to take him and disappear for a little while… while, of course, keeping in mind that he will have to return now and again. Your expression softens as you remember him in Kholusia, fighting by your side and then falling asleep alone on the cliffside, nestling comfortably against you when you joined him. You don’t quite know the limits of his power, but you will make certain he tells you true so that you don’t exceed them.

When he joins you, it is with no fanfare- he simply stops beside you and looks up at you with adoring ruby eyes. You look at him in a bit of surprise, and then a _great deal_ of surprise when you realize that he is still not in his robes, but rather something entirely different. He wears a black coat with red and white sashes across the front, just like his robes, but it falls open at his hips to reveal trousers gathered in at the knee by tall boots. The sleeves of the coat stop in the middle of his forearm, rolled up and buttoned to keep them in place, and his hands are bare. It is, you think, a _wonderful_ look for him, and you stare for so long that he finally laughs quietly and reaches up to tap you on _your_ nose- though there’s a soft blush on his cheeks that speaks of his approval of your gaze. “Shall we?” he asks, amused. As always, he has his staff strapped to his back- he is ready, and so are you.

The first place you take him is out into Lakeland, to the south of the Crystarium. He hums softly as you walk side by side, and one of your ears swivels towards him as you listen. For the first time since you arrived here, he seems truly relaxed and happy... and you are thankful for it, if not a bit exasperated that he’d shut himself away and suffered for two days. You will, you think, make _damn_ sure he knows the truth of your heart before you even leave Lakeland. During your adventures you’d found a sheltered cove along the shore of the lake, tucked away into the mountainside and not visible from anywhere save on the lake itself- you’d noted it while flying out to Bismarck, or rather- the Isle of Ken. That, you think, will be the perfect place to start this little tour of Norvrandt, and as it’s literally within viewing distance of the Tower, he should be quite comfortable here. Once you pry the truth of how he’s feeling out of him, you’ll judge where to go next.

He doesn’t say much as you walk, though he answers you if you speak to him- he seems deep in thought, and so you are content to leave him to it for the most part. You will ask what’s on his mind later; for now, it’s enough that he’s come out of his self-imposed exile… and when you take his hand and lace your fingers together, he looks up at you with the sweetest smile you think you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s still quiet, at least until you lead him to the beach and toward the rocky shore beyond, and then he looks up at you curiously. “Assuming it won’t spoil the surprise… where are we going?”

“Just up here a bit,” you promise, and you smile as you look up at the sky. In your pack is the makings of an excellent meal, and you’re excited to make it for him- you wonder when he last had miq’abobs, and though you can’t replicate the exact recipe here, you think you’ll be pretty close. The shore becomes a bit difficult to traverse, and you help him navigate the slippery rocks- both of you laugh a little as you do so, and once you reach the cove you’re more than ready to relax for a while.

He makes a quiet sound of surprise when the rocks give way to sand once more, and he looks into the cove with both curiosity and awe. “I had no idea this was even here,” he says slowly. “This is beautiful!” He looks at you with a bright smile. “You must have found this on your journey!”

You smile back and nod. “I did,” you say, squeezing his hand and leading him deeper into the cove. “I thought it would be something you’d like.”

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs. He looks up at the leaves above you, then smiles and closes the distance between you, gives you a soft, sweet kiss. There is still a great deal you both have to say, but for the moment, you are very happy to just hold him and thank the stars above that you have him with you.

As the sun sets, you busy yourself with making a campfire and finding a spot nearby for your bedroll. You feel his eyes on you and look up, then smile warmly as you see him hovering nearby with his own. “How about here?” you ask, gesturing to a spot with a clear view of the sky. He smiles brightly and nods, and the two of you organize your blankets before you sit down and start getting your dinner organized.

He sits next to you and leans against you briefly, then looks at you curiously. “I didn’t know you could cook,” he says.

“It’s that or starve sometimes,” you reply cheerfully. “I’m not bad at it- enough to not poison myself, anyway.” You grin at him as you set the ingredients out, then pull out the skewers. Ruby eyes look to the neatly sorted piles, then the skewers, then back at your face as they widen a little. You soften, smile gently at him. “I thought… it might be a good reminder of home.”

He lifts a hand to his eyes and is quiet for a few breaths, then leans over and brushes his lips against your cheek. “I think so,” he whispers. “Thank you…”

Once the miq’abobs are over the fire, he leans against you again, this time seemingly with no plan on moving any time soon. You wrap your arm around him and nose gently at his cheek, smile as his ear flicks against yours. “Raha… what’s on your mind?” you finally ask after a few moments pass, hoping that he’ll actually tell you- even back then it could be somewhat of a gamble as to whether or not he’d give a straight answer.

“Ah…” He trails off, and you’re _sure_ he’s going to say _nothing_ and you’re going to have to work harder for it, but he doesn’t- he just tucks himself closer against your side as though he’s cold, and so you hold him tighter. “All of this is very- unexpected. I am heartily grateful for it… but- no matter how I’d turned it in my mind, I was going to be gone either way. I suppose I’m still a little overwhelmed- and, to be perfectly honest, thanking the Twelve with each step I take.” He looks at you with a wan smile. “I’m sure I’ll come to terms with it.”

You smile briefly and touch your nose to his. You’re so glad he’s here with you that it’s actually a little hard to breathe. “Are you in pain?” you ask quietly.

He lifts a hand and gently touches your cheek. “Not enough to make me refuse this chance,” he says softly. “It hurts, a little. Urianger and Alphinaud did an admirable job of patching me up, but- I’ll have to regain my strength. I was nearly spent when I cast the spell to draw the Light from you, and dealing with Emet-Selch drained what little I had left. It didn’t take long for him to leave me to my misery, at any rate.”

Anger like wildfire flashes through you at the thought of his injuries, and you turn your face slightly to press your nose into his soft hair as you close your eyes tight. Seeing him like that certainly had given you strength, and you know that’s why Emet-Selch bothered at all- and how it _hurts_ knowing that he was so badly injured because of _you._ “I’m sorry,” you finally breathe. “I’m so sorry, Raha…!”

He makes a surprised sound, then a soft one of dismay as he turns toward you and wraps both his arms around you. “Don’t blame yourself- please, _don’t._” He shakes his head and holds on tighter. “I am… gods- I am _grateful_ to him. He saved my life.”

“He saved your life so I would come for him,” you manage to grind out through teeth clenched so tightly that your jaw aches. “He _hurt_ you so I would be angry enough to _fight_ him!” That’s the worst, you think, and you laugh bitterly and hold G’raha all the closer. “He needn’t have bothered,” you breathe. “I would have done anything at all to get you back, up to and including giving him the beating I did.”

He clings to you as though he would be just as happy to crawl under your skin and stay there forever- you wonder if he knows he did that _years_ ago. “You are my guiding light,” he breathes, “my brightest star- despite my best efforts I am still here, still with you, and I… perhaps it’s hopelessly foolish and romantic of me, but I would like to believe there’s a reason for it. I don’t know what that reason is, not yet, and perhaps I never will- but knowing that my life has a further purpose is… it’s exhilarating.” He draws back just enough to look at you, to smile at you. “What I know is this- I love you, and there is no limit to what I would do for your sake.”

You study his expression, look into his bright eyes. “Live for me, then,” you say quietly, and his eyes widen a little_._ “Live _with _me, _stay_ with me.” His brows come together and tears fill his eyes again, and you quickly move to press gentle kisses to the corner of each- he takes a shaky breath, and when you draw back and smile at him, you find that your eyes are filled with tears, too.

For a few breaths he is silent, the only sound you hear is the crackling of the fire- and when he speaks, his voice is so soft, so wistful, that even as close as you are you can barely hear him. It’s as though he fears giving voice to his thoughts, to his desires, lest they go up in smoke and disappear right in front of him. “I’ve waited so long for you,” he breathes. “I’m so used to being alone that sometimes I’m afraid that all of this has just been one long dream… and I’ll wake alone all over again.”

“Never,” you say quietly, resting your forehead against his and lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw. The crystal on his neck is cool beneath your fingers, but it doesn’t bother you- you barely notice it.

He lifts his hand to rest atop yours, the other still resting on your back, and he looks into your eyes with a wavery smile. “If you want me to stay with you… who am I to refuse?” He pauses, then his smile widens a little. “We’ll need to discuss your fondness for blankets, however.”

You’re filled with such a rush of elation that all you can do is laugh and hug him tight, bury your face in his hair and breathe deep of him. “What’s wrong with my blankets?” you demand, shoulders shaking as you struggle on the edge of laughter and tears.

He laughs as well, rubs his cheek against yours and then draws back to smile at you. “Don’t I keep you warm enough?” he asks gently, teasingly, and ah, _gods_\- it’s like no time has passed at all, somehow.

“We’ll just have to find out,” you reply, and the way he smiles back at you sets your heart alight.

Later, once the miq’abobs have been eaten and you are resting comfortably by the fire with him leaning on you once more, he sighs happily and noses at your cheek. “I suppose there will be talk,” he finally says hesitantly.

You blink. “About- oh.” You are _almost_ about to make light of his worry when you see the crystal on his cheek catch the firelight and sparkle, and you are reminded then that there is a great deal more for the two of you to concern yourselves with now than there was when you first began sharing blankets. “… does that bother you?” you ask, your ears drooping.

He smiles. “No,” he says softly. “I have… it’s true that I have kept a very wide berth between who I am now and who I was then, and though I am friendly with many, I have very few whom I would consider friends. I’m more worried for what they’ll say about _you._”

You hum softly as you think about your answer. “I think,” you say slowly, “that they’ll see ours as a love story for the ages.” His smile widens, and you kiss him softly. “One man strong enough to cross time and space for the person he loves, strong enough to sacrifice himself for that person… and the other being too stubborn to let it happen.” You grin, and he laughs and nips playfully at your lower lip. “In all seriousness, Raha- what people say doesn’t bother me. If that’s your concern, well… it needn’t be one any longer.”

“No?” He looks at you and smiles a little. “Well,” he says, “I suppose if you aren’t worried, then I won’t be either.”

You smile and kiss him, then once more for good measure. “Good,” you say. “There’s been too much to worry about, and I’m glad to have nothing of import weighing me down.” You rise and gently draw him with you, settle your hands on his hips and pull him close. “There’s just you and me right now… no Warrior of Darkness, no Crystal Exarch- just us.”

He smiles dreamily at you. “Just us,” he murmurs as he drapes his arms around your neck. “Ah… I am so looking forward to learning who you are now. Back then I was a little over-awed when you were first assigned my tent to bunk in, but I got over it quickly. … I’m sure I will now, too.” He blushes a little. “I don’t want you to think me mad with hero worship.”

“You aren’t?” you ask, teasing him gently to see him blush even more- and when he pins his ears, you lift a hand to stroke over them, making him sigh in pleasure and lean against you. “Seeing as how spending a few nights with me as your bunkmate cured you of whatever expectations you had before, I imagine you’ll be absolved all the same now.”

“If only I could be as daring now as I was then,” he mumbles, laughing just a little and shaking his head from where he has his face pressed against your neck.

You laugh at that, swishing your tail in amusement. “You _literally_ locked me in the Tower for a day, and you don’t think you’re daring? I wonder if I should be worried!” When he looks back up at you his eyes are shining, and you smile warmly at him before kissing him lightly on the nose… and when he tips his head a little and brushes his lips against yours, you return the kiss and let it deepen. Holding him close feels like home, and so you do, pulling him tighter against your body.

He’s breathing faster when the kiss breaks, and he bows his head briefly before looking up at you with a grin that you recognize immediately- lopsided, _mischievous._ “That’s true,” he muses, “I did. … and maybe I will again, when we have to return to the Crystarium from time to time. I want you _all_ to myself, and I’m hardly of the mind that I should share after all this time.”

“What else can I do but accept?” You nip at the corner of his mouth, catch him in another kiss, and draw him down onto your bedroll. He looks up at you, hair fanned around his face, and you are briefly awestruck. He is _beautiful,_ utterly flawless- at least in your eyes.

You love him beneath the starry sky, the one that he helped set in place, shrouded in darkness save the soft glow from the fire- long since burned low- and those selfsame stars. You are careful with him, scatter kisses across each and every ilm of skin as you bare it, drinking him in and savoring every heartbeat. You trace the path the crystal takes on his body, down his left side and past his hip, nearly creating a spiral as the tendril grows smaller and thinner. He lays still and quiet, speaking of his pleasure in the way he shifts beneath you, the gentle fingers that stroke your hair, the soft intake of breath when you find a spot he likes. There is no sense of urgency in this, no desperate need driving your each and every move- you are content to admire him in the dim light, to chase the shadows across his skin when the campfire flickers now and again.

When you move over him, the smile he gives you fills your heart to overflowing. He is _so _warm, so trusting- he drapes his arms around you, hooks one leg over the small of your back and the other against your thighs. You watch him this time, keeping your eyes on his face even as your own pleasure builds inside of you. Nothing matters more right now than the two of you, than this very moment, and so you are almost languid in how you stretch it out. He is still quiet, and so you pay attention to his breathing- your lips curve as it gets a little faster, a little shallower, then he gasps softly and arches up against you, closes his eyes and holds on tight as he finds his peak. Maybe he’s worried about being loud since you’re outside, and you think you’ll cure him of _that_ when the sun rises, but for now… for now, this is perfect, everything is _perfect._ He whispers your name, lifts a hand to the back of your neck as he rolls his hips gently with yours, still trembling as he comes down from his high- and you find yours wrapped tightly in his arms, gasp his name and press your face into his hair as you fall apart for him, _because_ of him.

“I love you,” you whisper- and he whispers it back and holds you close to his heart.

Once you’ve sorted yourselves, you decide that it’s high time you get yourself wrapped up in as many of the blankets as he’ll allow for. He presses against you when you burrow beneath them, laughs gently as you pull them up to your nose. “It isn’t _that_ cold,” he says, amused- and to prove his point, he rises entirely in the altogether and stretches from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail.

“It is,” you reply, “but if you’d like to keep doing that, I’m not going to stop you.” You grin at him, and he laughs at you before getting beneath the covers with you- and like so long ago, you yelp, indignant. “Hey! You’re freezing!”

“Oh?” He grins at you. “Well, then… I suppose you should warm me up, hmm?”

You laugh and hug him close. “You’re amazing, I hope you know that,” you say. He hugs you back, tangles his legs and his tail with yours, and you sigh in contentment and make sure the blankets are well settled.

He kisses you, then smiles as he rests his head on the pillow right next to yours, nudging your noses together. “So are you,” he murmurs. “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy… or rather- I’m sure it was before I was awoken to my destiny, back when you swore you’d take me to the ocean in the middle of the summer. Everything felt so right, back then… and now- I feel the very same way.”

You smile softly at him, hold him all the closer. He’s right, you think- you feel settled in a way you haven’t since the last time you held him in your arms back then, and you realize that the hole in your heart has mended at last with him thus returned to you. “This is _our_ story,” you breathe- and he kisses you, and you lose track of everything save for him.


End file.
